Jace
by Yin Long Nocturne
Summary: Jace is 5 years found when he first meets the High Lord of Hell. Just back from Briarwood, hair not even cut back to it's proper length.


A/N: Another Black Jewels fic! I just cannot resist, I love this fandom, Anne Bishop has created such a lovely sandbox for us to play in. This fic features a transmale character, and while it is mentioned, so far it's unchallenged. Likely in future chapters there will be mentions of transphobia and transphobic language, but that has not come about yet. This story also largely features the _cildru dyathe,_ or demon dead children, thus there will be mentions of abuse, injury and death of minors - so far this is relatively non-graphic and all off screen.

On a total aside, this was originally in past tense, but when I came back to it this week it kept bugging me to put in present, so I apologise if I've missed something.

* * *

Jace is 5 years found when he first meets the High Lord of Hell. Just back from Briarwood, hair not even cut back to it's proper length.

Jace can't stand to be in Chaillot anymore; to deal with his family. Wilhelmina is the only good person of the lot; he will make sure she survives to grow into a strong witch. Even though she is his older sister he feels compelled to protect her. So he travels to over the bridge to the _cildru dyathe's_ island. Char is a good friend. He can understand being different in a way most people can't even begin to comprehend. All the _cildru dyathe_ can. When Jace appears on the island he is welcomed with open arms, the other children all fussing about him.

He smiles for the first time in months. So many people would be shocked to see this side of the demon dead children; in death they'd seemingly acquired a grim maturity; becoming intensely protective of their fellows. Jace baskes in the warmth of their affection and gives back his own. Here it doesn't matter that his body is wrong, that his mind doesn't match his outward appearance. To them he is simply Jace. There is no trace of Jaenelle Angelline to be found.

"Have the butterflies I made last time held together?" He askes Char some time later, when Suyla and Din finally let him leave their tender clutches.

"They have done quite well. They birth eggs that grow into caterpillars and then spin cocoons. The newer children are delighted." Char smiles fondly, as child of about seven with no right arm dashed passed, blinding grin on their face. "It has been a long time since most of us have seen such life."

"I'm glad. You live still, even if your bodies are dead, you should be able to experience life in all it's beauty."

"You mean, you want to give us something you cannot have." Char's shrewd gaze pieces like the sharpest of blades, so well honed one doesn't even register the pain.

"Nothing slips past you does it, Char." It is Jace's turn to smile fondly, Char has been his confidant for the last five years. Having found him in a sobbing heap near where the bridge is now constructed between their island and Chaillot.

"It doesn't. I've known you too long."

"Truth."

"There is another thing I should tell you." There is a worried cast to Char's brow.

"What is it?"

"One of the butterflies disappeared with a winged patrol about a week ago."

"With one of the Eyriens?"

"Yes. They tried to capture more. But they dissolved before they could take them away from here."

"Good. I had hoped that part of the spell would work. Don't worry, Char. If something comes because of this I'll deal with it. The other children don't need to suffer because of my actions."

"We would gladly fight for you." 'You are Witch.' He doesn't say and Jace is grateful for that. He hates the reminders that he was supposed to be female. Like the fact world had some destiny for him meant he couldn't have been born in a body that fits.

"You know that it will likely be the High Lord whose attention this matter is brought to, don't you Jace?"

"Of course my dear Char. He is, after all, quite invested in this island. As much as any outsiders ever get, at least."

"The new ones to like the presents he sends in Midwinter." Char says with a smirk. Jace has counted himself among their number since the day after he'd stumbled across the _cildru dyathe_ island.

"And you like to see them happy, admit it." Jace nudges Char teasingly, then shifts and sighs. "The butterflies aside, I want to talk to him."

"The High Lord?" Char's brows furrow.

"Yes. Several of my friends have said that if I wish to… _learn_ basic craft," he spits the words out with venom, "Then the High Lord is well equipped to offer assistance."

Char snorts with laughter, devolving into full blown cackles at the disgruntled look on Jace's face.

"You mean, that problem you have where you try to lift a single stone and it won't even twitch; but if you want to you can levitate and entire clearing?"

"Yes, Char. That problem. The Benedicts are becoming insufferable."

They both startle as an unfamiliar presence lands on the edge of the island. Char plants a firm hand between Jace's shoulder blades and spins him toward the south. At Char's fierce look and cocked brow Jace doesn't protest, shielding his presence and retreating to a heavily warded pocket just outside the gathering place near the entrance to the island from Kaleer. Now isn't the time to stir up trouble; he knows Char will pass on his request.

A few minutes later a young child wearing only a batter shift comes stumbling into the protected alcove. From the angry red of the not yet entirely healed cuts that covered the left side of their body, this one was new.

"Hello there." Jace keeks his voice soft, the new ones are always skittish.

"Hello." The voice is full of suspicion, wary eyes narrowing into slits.

"I'm Jace."

"Jace?"

"Mm." He pauses, casting a calm eye over his new companion. "Have you heard of a game called _Hide and Go Seek_?"

"Hide and…"

"Go seek."

"No." The suspicion melts into confusion.

"In each round, someone is the seeker. They seek the other people, who hide as best they can. The last person found is the seeker for the next round. My seeker is Char, and I'm hiding here because most people won't stumble into it."

"It didn't seem hidden to me." The young one mutters.

"Mm, but you are one of us. There's no need for me to protected against you." Jace smiles wickedly. "That's what makes the game fun. No magic, no tricks, just stealth and luck."

The young one still looks dubious, but there is longing peeking through the cracks.

"Why don't you go find Suyla and set up another round? The more people the better, and Suyla always knows how to find people free to play."

"Alright." The young one's eyes shift from the ground to Jace's hands to his left ear and back to the ground again. "Where do I find Suyla?" They ask hesitantly.

"I think Suyla will be…" Jace tilts his head, his magic sinking into the ground to pluck at the threads sunk there. "Near the blue, but behind the yellow that's opposite from the steel."

The young one looks disgruntled.

"Come now, just think of this as finding the last hider. You find Suyla, you find the seeker for the next round." Jace chides, amusement clear in both his expression and his voice.

"Alright." A frown and fierce look of determination accompanies the young one out the alcove. Heading to the northwest.

'Well, at least they've started off in the right direction.' Jace thinks mildly, he remembers the first time Char had started a game of Hide and Go Seek like that. He'd been so frustrated, but finding the first seeker was a tradition among the _cildru dyathe._ After all, no one has a reason not to join a game that had already begun. A few hours later Char comes into the alcove, sinking down next to him with a sigh. After holding him in an exasperated stare Char tells him the meeting has been set for the next day.

Jace smiles ferally, no one would harm the _cildru dyathe_ \- not even the High Lord of Hell. He might stumble over the small things he was forced to learn with the Benedicts, but large workings were far more achievable. If he had to, he could weave a death spell large enough to cover the whole of Kaleer, leaving all his friends unharmed, while subjecting their enemies to a slow and painful demise.


End file.
